


Tales of a Runaway Disaster Goth

by tiny_voices



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Accidentally Adopting a Child, Character Study, Gen, Goth Character, Not a lot though, Running Away, Telepathy, Vampires, Violence, death mention, set in Storm King's Thunder but we did a lot of homebrew, sex is mentioned but nothing explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26444146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiny_voices/pseuds/tiny_voices
Summary: Cairyn is the eldest daughter of a noble family, and once she had been gifted magic by an archfey, she runs away from home, headed for the Sword Coast. But she has no idea what she's getting into.(A series of reflections made throughout a campaign.)





	Tales of a Runaway Disaster Goth

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this during the last parts of a Storm King's Thunder campaign I was in a while back. Cairyn is my elf warlock who left home and stumbled into adventure, which included events such as: summoning her familiar (a pseudodragon named after Bea from nitw), getting stabbed by a serial killer, sleeping with vampires and members of her party, and accidentally getting attached to an annoying young boy.
> 
> There's a little bit of distaste for orcs in this story, stemming from Cairyn being a snobby rich elf kid. I'm not... 100% cool with that, but it's how things were within the context of this setting/campaign, which was operating under the standard DnD lore.
> 
> (also it's pronounced "ky-rin" with an "eye" sound, to be clear)

Getting to sleep or even trance is apparently impossible. The creaking of wood on a ship isn’t new to Cairyn, but it nags at her ceaselessly on her first night after leaving home. The faint swaying of the ship, normally a calming motion, only seems to agitate her now.

What the hell did she just _do?_

Glancing at her reflection in the mirror on the desk in the small room provided for her, she is momentarily confused to see a face that isn’t hers. She had paid a mage to cast a disguising spell on her before she headed to the docks. Paid extra to keep them quiet. She asked to look completely unrecognizable, and she did-- her blue skin had turned a pale orange, her nearly black hair turned a fair yellow, moon to sun. Her face was rounder, her eyes set deeper, her skin a little rougher, but still stately, so as not to be out of place on the island. It was disconcerting that her right eye appeared normal, lacking the dark, discolored sclera and yellow pupil, even though that was already disconcerting to begin with.

Cairyn puts the mirror back down and exits her room. She doesn’t want to dwell on her unfamiliar face or the anxiety buzzing around in her head anymore. She makes her way to the deck of the ship, nearly deserted aside from a couple of deckhands. They each take a moment to acknowledge her presence before returning to their quiet conversation.

She tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear and steps up to the ledge, resting her arms on it and trying to ignore how unsettled she still feels about how short her hair is now. It’s only been half of a day but she has an odd longing for her natural hair, long enough to reach her mid-back. What if the mage had tricked her and the spell would leave her in this unfamiliar body forever? Could she ever be the same person again? How would she handle being alone in a strange land _and_ living with an entirely different appearance? What had she gotten herself into?

Her grip tightens on the ship’s ledge, the wood digging into her skin. She takes a slow breath, cool night air filling her lungs, seawater smell breezing through her throat. After a moment the sensation comforts her. Things would be okay. The mage seemed earnest, holding no personal stake against Cairyn. They had no reason to trap her in a disguise. The spell would last her until the ship’s arrival on the Sword Coast. Then she would be herself again.

...But not exactly. She would be herself, of course, but she would be _free._ Free of her parents’ harsh judgments and expectations, their scathing criticisms and their lack of regard for anything she could do or say in her defense. She could do whatever she wanted now.

The stars were so bright and beautiful tonight, and the moon a shining crescent in the middle of it all. At once the night sky seemed to lighten the weight of worry in Cairyn’s chest. The world was open to her now. She was no longer confined to her family’s home, her bedroom, closed off to hide and protect the most earnest and vulnerable parts of who she was. The sound of the waves, something Cairyn had heard nearly every day of her life on Evermeet, began to sound new to her. These were uncharted waters, literally and figuratively.

While it was true that she didn’t really know what she was doing, nor how long her gold would last her, nor how hard it would be to get food and travel supplies on the mainland, nor what she would do if she were unable to handle it, nor what she even really _wanted_ to do... no one would make decisions for her anymore. If someone didn’t like how she did things, she would simply shove them out of her life and never look back. Maybe she was doomed to fuck it all up. But at least she would fuck it all up on her own terms.

Watching the dark waves ripple below her, Cairyn realizes, was making her drowsy. She would be able to sleep after all, it seemed.

***

The ship had landed on the Sword Coast at long last. Only shortly after departing from the ship, as the mage had promised, did the arcane disguise fade. Cairyn smiles, feeling her features returning to normal, running her hands through her long, dark hair for the first time in weeks. She quickly secures dinner and a room at a nearby tavern, feeling confident and independent. The tavern and its clientele were... rougher than Cairyn was used to, a bit more unkempt and scruffy than she would’ve preferred, but she couldn’t be bothered about it for very long. She had made it.

She revels in her own face reflected back at her in her room’s mirror, this time a humble and smudged vanity. But after a moment... she feels like she should maybe make some changes. She looks like herself again, but... she looks like she’s still living under her parents’ thumbs. The hair pulled over to conceal the right side of her face would stay; her right eye might draw too much attention and that was something that she did not want. Luckily the look had grown on her. But what was something she had always wanted to do with her appearance that she had never been allowed to do?

Piercings, Cairyn immediately thinks. The barkeeper had had a few. Cairyn hadn’t mentioned it to her, unable to work up the nerve, but she had admired how... alternative the little metal bars made the woman look. Very few elves on Evermeet wore piercings on places besides their ears.

The next morning, after practicing her half of the conversation a few times, Cairyn returns to the barkeep and asked where she had gotten her piercings done. She was directed to a little hovel in town. The building’s shabby roof and sparse interior did not impress her in the slightest-- honestly, you’d think a body mod shop would at least _attempt_ some slightly more comfortable furniture-- but she appreciated that it wasn’t bursting at the seams with overwrought decorum.

And of course there was the remarkable thrill of receiving three piercings all in a row. The dwarf running the place cautioned her against doing so many at once, but once Cairyn tapped into her well of eldritch power, it was as if she could reason the man into nearly anything. And so, she picked out two rings for her unhidden eyebrow, one blue and one gold. For her lip ring, entirely inspired by the barkeep, Cairyn wanted something a little _more_. Sure, the twisted metal ring was one of the more expensive options, but the dwarf was so charmed by this strange and bold elven woman in his establishment that he offered to her for free, once she asked for it.

The next day, studying her newly decorated face, Cairyn devised a darker, heavy look would very much suit her, and applied makeup accordingly. _Don’t put on so much kohl onto your eyelids,_ her mother would say, _there’s no need for you to look so sinister._ Now, she would look as sinister as a witch if she wanted, Cairyn thought, grinning widely.

When she was finished, she felt _sharp,_ as though she were a blade that had finally been pulled from its sheath. Her new look was dramatic, gloomy and smoky like a cloudy night illuminated only by the moon. Her mother and father would’ve hated it.

It was _perfect._

***

Cairyn’s first impressions of the people that would become her adventuring party ranged from skeptically impressed to outright disgust. She was wary of each of them to begin with, riding together in that cart on the way to Nightstone. At the time she couldn’t be bothered to properly introduce herself to them, instead taking the chance to sit back and observe them from a distance. A metaphorical distance, not a physical one, since the cart was cramped. She deserved better transportation, frankly, but she guessed it came with the territory of emancipating herself from her noble family.

She had hurried to take the seat next to Elviana, the quiet and spooky pale-skinned girl in a hood; she and Cairyn were small and thin, respectively, enough to leave an acceptable amount of personal space between the two of them. The girl’s features appeared soft and young whenever Cairyn could catch a glimpse of them beneath the dark hood she always wore. Her hair was unnaturally white, giving her a strange ghostly vibe. She was mysterious and faintly unsettling in a way Cairyn could appreciate, could relate to. Her arcane abilities were nothing to sneeze at either; this girl was not to be underestimated.

Dak... was another story. Cairyn had read stories about people like him, more beast than man, capable of speech but otherwise belonging to the instincts of the wild. What she had not anticipated was how _gross_ he could be. The smell of slobber, blood, and death followed him wherever they went. True, his reckless aggression and ability to overpower nearly everything was very useful in battle, but it made him hard to deal with. Diplomacy and nuance were lost to him. Stealth was a concept he had not come to grasp despite his hunting tendencies. He was a good ally in battle and a lucrative battering ram, but beyond that Cairyn wanted nothing to do with him. He was simply beneath her.

Elistrey was perhaps the most normal companion Cairyn had met, aside from the fact that she turned into a fox person sometimes. Competent and precise in battle, a bit less so in dialogue, but functional nonetheless. Cairyn liked that she and Elistrey were similarly informal and shared a distaste for nobility. The two of them could speak naturally with each other and Cairyn found herself willing to follow Elistrey’s lead when the need arose. Their impromptu routine of getting drunk together after a day of combat offered Cairyn a unique comfort she hadn’t realized she had been missing. Her presence was grounding, and Cairyn often wondered if hers was for Elistrey as well, though she wouldn’t think to bring it up in conversation.

Cairyn’s conclusion was a hesitant “they’ll do.”

***

With a puff of purple smoke and a quiet pop, the ritual comes to an end, and there on the inn floor stands a tiny dragon. A wave of fondness hits Cairyn immediately at the sight of her new familiar. It’s strange; even though she was the one to cast the spell and this familiar couldn’t have belonged to anyone else, it felt as if she and the dragon had always been somehow connected. Like she had known the tiny creature for many years and now they could finally meet in person.

The dragon peers around the room curiously-- her eyes match Cairyn’s odd one—before settling her gaze on Cairyn. There’s a gravelly chirp as the dragon seems to recognize the elf kneeling in front of her, her finlike ears perking up. Cairyn holds out her hands toward the dragon, marveling at the barred pattern of the deep gray scales and the subtle rippled pattern of the wings. The dragon’s claws, tiny needles, skitter on the floor as she steps into Cairyn’s palms. Cairyn lifts the dragon up to her chest, an involuntary smile forming on her lips.

“You are the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” she whispers, surprised at her own words. She hasn’t referred to anybody or anything as cute without lying or being sarcastic since she was a child. And she’s absolutely certain this dragon— _her_ dragon—simply couldn’t be outclassed in cuteness. As if to emphasize this revelation, the creature tilts her head at the sound of Cairyn’s voice. Her wiry tail, tipped with a sharp barb, swishes calmly, hovering near four spindly legs. “You’re a thin little thing, aren’t you? We really do match.” Cairyn carefully pets the dragon’s head with one finger, closely watching how the creature reacts. She’s elated to see the dragon accepting of the touch, chirring quietly in approval.

“I think I’ll call you Beatrice. You like the sound of that?” Cairyn says. The dragon tilts her head again, her unearthly eyes dilating slightly. There’s an odd sensation in Cairyn’s mind in this moment; a mental expression of _yes_ reaches her, perfectly clear despite the lack of language. She identifies this as a link belonging exclusively to the two of them.

_I think we’ll be a good pair, Beatrice,_ Cairyn thinks.

_I think so too._

***

The first time Cairyn gets hurt, as in actually _wounded,_ she’s shaken. Death has never felt more real than when Jack stabs her, gouging a rapier into her torso from behind. The attack comes completely out of nowhere, outside a room already filthy with blood and viscera from an _actual dead body._ It was a morbid and horrifying twist on the concept of art and Cairyn was next on the list to become an exhibit.

Growing up she spent a lot of time reading about morbid, horrifying things, much to others’ concern and disdain. Her interest in the strange and macabre was something she learned to take pride in as something that set her apart from those who stuck their nose up at her. While in the real world she was lectured and judged, in the shadowy worlds of her books she was at home.

Facing these things for real, however, was something else entirely.

The wound wasn’t a lethal one, shocking and painful as it was. But in that moment where Cairyn stumbles against the doorway, clutching her side and feeling warm blood beginning to seep into her clothes, she wonders seriously if she had made a mistake leaving home.

Beatrice flies from the hood of Cairyn’s cloak, a screeching blur of wings and fangs, and whips her barbed tail at Jack. The stinger shoots into his throat, pumping venom into his jugular vein and he slumps to the floor, his weapon clattering loudly at his side. Cairyn breathes a shuddering sigh of relief and her familiar lands next to her, fretting at her wound.

“I’ll patch you up, don’t worry,” Elistrey says, approaching Cairyn with some bandages, brow wrinkled in focus. Cairyn can’t get her mouth to form the words “thank you” and blames it on the shock.

The others carry Jack to the jail and report the details of the crime scene to the Bryn Shander guards. Cairyn hopes they put Jack to death but they don’t. Later that night, after she and Elistrey get drunk at the tavern, Cairyn retires to Elviana’s room ( _definitely_ not jealous of Elistrey earning the attention of that other woman at the bar) planning on sleeping the whole thing off. Instead she sits on her bed, knees pulled up to her chest, still wincing painfully at her wound, and tries to resist the desire to cry. And fails at it.

She keeps it quiet, not wanting to wake up Elviana. For one, this was not something Cairyn wants to share with another person, and secondly, something had seemed off about the girl as they were leaving the scene of Jack’s crime. She doesn’t need any more on her plate. Beatrice curls around the back of Cairyn’s neck comfortingly, chirring at her in a soothing manner.

When she finally gets to sleep that night, Cairyn’s only thought is that if she ever sees Jack again, she’ll blast him to _ashes._

***

In the novels of her family’s library, vampires were always portrayed as alluring in spite of how dangerous and shady they were. Or perhaps because of it. Either way, the real thing didn’t really live up to Cairyn’s expectations. Vincent was just a flamboyant bastard that wrecked Elviana’s life as far as she was concerned, mysterious charming demeanor be damned. They wasted him and made off with his treasures and gold, even brought Elviana some closure.

That last one was perhaps what pleased Cairyn the most. She had been growing protective of the girl lately, wishing to comfort her but not really knowing how. Fortunately, it seemed that Bea served as a good proxy for her support. Elviana petting the pseudodragon, smiling calmly, softened Cairyn’s mood whenever she saw it.

Another interesting development from what Cairyn began to refer to as the “Vampire Bullshit” was the meeting of their newest traveling companion, the orc known as Katok. Despite perhaps not being the brightest candle in the study, her magical prowess was quite the sight, and, if Cairyn was being honest, so was Katok herself. Cairyn could so easily imagine the scornful reactions of the elves back home—a high elf of noble blood, taking interest in an _orc_? How distasteful! The thought brought a smirk to her lips.

At any rate, Katok was an up front and sociable person, willing to talk things out rather than jumping right into conflict. It was respectable, even if that approach didn’t always work out. Cairyn was happy that she came into their fold.

That supposed bra of holding, though. What the hell was the deal with that thing, anyway?

***

The thing about agreeing to go along with the group’s decision to help fix the giants’ problems was that it meant traveling to very cold and snowy places. Back home at Evermeet, snow was fairly rare, and Cairyn had only seen it a handful of times. On the mainland, particularly in the northern regions, it was quite common, to the point that she’s starting to grow a little tired of it. It makes traveling harder and slower, and the prolonged exposure to the freezing temperatures leaves her feeling vulnerable. This offends her; she wields dark and powerful magic and smites beasts left and right, but _cold air_ is the thing posing the most serious threat to her life now?

Beyond that, these long trips between locations left a lot of time to just... think. When Cairyn takes watch while the others sleep, the chilly silence of the night sometimes goes from peaceful to uncomfortable. Her mind wanders to gloomy places. Drawing in her sketchbook distracts her only for so long.

“See, this is the catch, Bea,” Cairyn sighs, holding the dragon close like a child would hold a stuffed animal. Beatrice shuffles further into the thick fur of Cairyn’s cloak. “Sure, getting attached to people is nice and everything, but then you have to worry about them being okay.” Lately the idea of any of her party falling victim to the cold or something living in the wilds out here has been bothering her more and more. It’s another form of vulnerability she does not appreciate.

_You’ve all made it this far, haven’t you?_

“Yes, and we’re a pretty badass bunch. But...” Cairyn pauses, her breath visible in the night air. She gazes up at the moon above her, feeling oddly small. “I don’t know. Things at home were awful but they were _certain_. Things happened on a schedule and they happened consistently.” As she talks she begins stroking a gloved hand down Beatrice’s back, following the now familiar pattern of bumps of her scales. “Advisors and business associates would visit the house, give their empty compliments and talk about boring things, then leave. Holidays were celebrated with the traditional festivities at the same times every year. Mother and father would come to my room and talk the same shit whenever I did something ‘out of line.’ I always knew what to expect.”

Cairyn pauses again, holding her breath as something rustles in the bushes near their camp. She exhales in relief as only a small rabbit hops out, taking one look at the elf and her dragon before bolting off into the night. “But out here, with these people, nothing is a guarantee. Something terrible and ridiculous could attack us and we could be killed, simple as that.”

_It’s scary._

With a nod Cairyn sighs again. “Yeah.”

_Fear is an instinct, not the future._

Cairyn blinks, the tightness in her chest loosening as she considers this phrase. “That’s... really wise, Bea.”

_Us dragons are wise things._ Beatrice stretches up and licks the tip of Cairyn’s nose making the elf laugh quietly.

***

When Loki shows up suddenly one night, Cairyn is not pleased. She’s never liked kids much and kids never liked her much. And this child—elven child—behaves like a machine with two settings: hungry and mischievous. He flits around the cave, asking annoying questions and pestering the party for food. Cairyn hadn’t signed up for such a responsibility and she refuses to accept it.

...At least, to start with. Against her will Loki begins to slowly endear Cairyn to his childish antics. He listens to her suggestions for defiling the oracle’s cave walls, looking to her for approval with those green puppy dog eyes, and chuckles along with her at the resulting doodles. Once he learns that Beatrice isn’t food, his persistent stream of questions and his energetic bouncing all over the place seem a little less annoying and more simply indicative of a child fascinated and driven by so much at once. They were both elves with less than typical upbringings, and he was the first elf Cairyn had gotten to know that hadn’t impressed some sort of expectation on her motivated by reputation or close-mindedness. His desires were simple—food and amusement. It was a refreshing change of pace. He was still a significant pain in the ass, but... she supposed it could be worse. If Katok was Loki’s surrogate mother, Cairyn was his surrogate aunt, and she begrudgingly allowed this. Though her newfound title didn’t feel official until they stopped in Luskan and Katok was too... occupied to keep an eye on the spastic boy.

Cairyn gets the idea of fishing with Loki after he harasses the man by the piers for fishing equipment. Back home, she had learned how to fish from her father—one of the few things he wished for her to learn that she didn’t mind—then helped teach her younger brother and sister. Doing so had been a rare example of a fond family memory of hers, where she felt like her input finally mattered. The sudden sense of nostalgia coming over her as she sits at the end of a pier with Loki, explaining how to bait a hook and cast it into the water, takes her by surprise. It just feels strangely familiar; her attempt at sounding both knowledgeable and confident in her knowledge, the boy listening to her but not actually being engaged enough to properly learn what she was teaching, and the mixed feelings of exasperation and patience as he misuses the fishing pole (though him slapping the water with the entire pole throws her for a loop).

What Loki does next also surprises her. The boy grows uncharacteristically quiet and solemn, admitting that their party had grown on him and that he appreciated that they took him in, even if he initially joined because he was looking for his missing brother. Part of Cairyn’s little black heart melts at this. Then he asks her if it’s okay if he sticks with them, even if he never finds his brother. She realizes all at once that she would be genuinely upset if he left them. Her response is far more lukewarm than she feels about it, but it’s affirmative nonetheless. But Loki’s mature moment is short-lived and he quickly returns to form, diving in after a “demon fish” after hooking himself with his own fishing pole. Cairyn takes the time to facepalm before diving in after him.

Afterward while she uses magic to dry herself off, conflicted feelings start to brew inside her head. Loki was feeling more and more like a little brother to her, that could no longer be denied. But... did she even deserve to feel that way? She left her actual siblings behind without so much as a goodbye, and here she was acting as a guardian for a kid she met a month ago? Did the detachment from her blood family and the simplicity of Loki’s worldview really justify abandoning her siblings, who truthfully had never been as toxic to her as their parents?

Cairyn mulls over these questions as she sketches her siblings in her book, her brother concentrating on his fishing line while her sister curiously watches a crab scuttle along the shoreline. Just as she finishes the drawing, there’s a commotion by the disgusting house at the south end of the town, spearheaded by Katok and Loki. She would have to settle her feelings later on, it seems.

For now though, it’s easier to finally admit to herself that she misses her siblings.

***

_To the Le’Quella Family,_

_I’m alive and I’m safe. And happy. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll come back at some point when I’m ready, but no sooner than that._

_Sincerely,_

_Cairyn_

_P.S._

_Get rid of the fucking bounty on my head. There’s big dumb orcs carrying posters with my face on them AND they’re underselling me to an insulting degree. Honestly._

***

This day had not turned out at all like Cairyn would have expected.

She lounges against silk pillowcases and beneath satin sheets, classy and luxurious ( _finally,_ she thinks, _something a little more indulgent than a straw inn bed_ ), sandwiched comfortably between two of her adventuring party. Elistrey on her right, normally very alert with an eye out for danger, peaceful and soft in slumber, red hair fanned out around her. Katok on her left, mouth open slightly, snoring but perhaps not as loud as Cairyn might expect, hands laced behind her head. Their two vampire partners for the night sit at the foot of the large bed, heads close together in hushed conversation. Chanel, the picture of elegant moonlit beauty, hair somehow still in its high bun, and Kira, the brickhouse of a woman, half-redressed in her armor. Cairyn just watches them for a few moments, still reeling from the reality that _all that_ had just happened.

She certainly isn’t complaining, however. Hell, she would even say that she deserves this outcome, and so do the others in her party. Elistrey had been through some trauma regarding her home and her people, with the question of their well-being remaining unanswered with bad implications; Katok had nearly lost her wife in Bryn Shander and returned to the place where her unfortunate childhood took place; Cairyn had been stabbed by a serial killer; and most recently, Loki had gone missing out of nowhere, only to return in feral condition and then whisked off into the Feywild to prevent his untimely death. Their surrogate kid brother was officially out of the picture, and even if he was safe, a gap where his presence once was would remain.

They’d all been through some shit. A vampire orgy was a fitting way to mend the misery for a while, as far as Cairyn was concerned.

It had become clear that Katok and Cairyn’s behavior upon entering the vampire castle, the tag team flirting and propositioning of the bewitching vampire women, was a form of coping in the wake of Loki’s disappearance. It absolutely was not the most responsible way of handling a loss, Cairyn notes in the back of her mind, but... it was fun. And freeing.

With a yawn Cairyn shuffles a little further down into the covers, faintly noticing that her hair, rather tousled, isn’t covering her right eye as it usually does. But it doesn’t bother her. These vampires didn’t seem to care, neither about the strange coloration nor its implications, if they even suspected there were any. She supposes it didn’t hurt that they had played quite the part in dismantling her carefully crafted look as well. The scent of roses and candle smoke hangs in the air, comfortably chilly. Rain falls quietly on the castle’s roof, muffled and soft, the sound a blanket pulled over the castle’s inhabitants. It’s a moment Cairyn plans on remembering fondly.

She had never had a shot at anything like this in her old life. Signs pointed to quite the opposite, in fact—her parents had considered the idea of marrying her off to someone from another noble family, and this most likely would’ve been some eldest son in some important business position. This scenario would’ve been problematic, for more reasons than one.

So yes, maybe losing her virginity to a handful of vampires she had just met was a little irresponsible. But... gods, fuck it. Her boy is gone and everyone in this castle is hot, she deserved this.

***

Their quest to find King Hekaton eventually leads the party, down even more members, out to sea. Cairyn realizes, riding on her patron’s magically conjured ship, this is the first time she’s been on the water since she left the island of Evermeet. The swaying sensation of the ship and the smell of the ocean waves is familiar to her, and yet now it feels almost novel. It’s as if she’s sailing on another world, in another life, than before. Maybe it’s just a side effect of the Queen’s fey magic piloting the ship, but regardless, Cairyn finds herself reflecting on the now versus then.

On her way to the Sword Coast, she had been wary and uncertain of most things. The unknown drew in her as much as it threatened to scare her off. The Queen herself had been just a shadowy figure in her memories, hovering over her as though it were silently monitoring her progress. Now she’s practically a surrogate mother, showing more evident interest in her well-being than her actual parents had appeared to harbor. Previously content with a solitary existence, Cairyn now knows other skilled adventurers and considers them her friends, though she’s hard pressed to admit to that, even now. Things had changed for her, that’s for sure.

Despite these developments and all that she has gone through, however, it doesn’t feel like she’s “made it.” Beyond the immediate future, she still lacks a plan. Would the others want to stick around with her after the giants’ trouble gets settled? What did _she_ want to do once this was all said and done? Somehow during all these months she hadn’t taken the time to sit with herself and decide on a project or goal for herself. Effectively she’s still just as directionless as she started.

But... maybe that’s okay. After all, she is free to do as she pleases and she’s even more powerful and capable of taking care of herself than ever before. Perhaps she didn’t need to have a definite goal to be considered “complete.” If she is alive and happy, then maybe that’s enough.

Beatrice flies down from the crow’s nest and lands on Cairyn’s shoulder, receiving a pat on the head in greeting. Cairyn breathes in that familiar night ocean air and sighs it out, relaxing against the ledge of the ship. She smiles then, illuminated under the bright moon, still aimless, but content.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading c:
> 
> btw i take writing and drawing commissions, for more info check out my Carrd: https://bagofbeans.carrd.co/


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